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Writer's picturePeggy Medberry

Tree Talk


Are you waving at me, tree?

When usually you're so still.

All the other branches are

A hazy Monet

But one leafy twig

Is nodding at me.


Are you waving?

Or is it merely a rogue

Breeze

Teasing my imagination.


Perhaps in all your years

Of living

You see us rushing about.

Worrying about money

And wars

And fashion.


And you whisper to us

Peace be still.

Enjoy the sun.

Feel the wind.

Laugh with the birds.

All is well.


But we rush by

Barely noticing

The fresh green of Spring.

The lacy shadows

That dance at our feet.


We rush by

Looking at digital

Images of

Ones and zeroes.

Social media

That isn’t social.


We miss the whispers

And the waves.

The rustling sighs

As you ruffle your leaves.

Praying one day

We will look up

And see

What we are missing.

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